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On Saturday May 28th, we invite family, friends and supporters from across the Central Coast, Sydney and Newcastle (and even further abroad!), to join us for an evening of Nepalese immersion and celebration at Like Minds at Avoca Beach, NSW.

Funds raised on the night will be used to directly support the Kulung people of Eastern Nepal; the stars of our upcoming film Carrying Everest.

During our climb, we will stay in local teahouses (guesthouses), hire local porters and guides at fair wages and purchase meals and supplies in local villages, which in turn, will provide an income and much-needed investment for these communities. Because the region does not sit along the main tourist trail, the benefits will be a real contribution to the lives of the Kulung people.

Despite being among the most marginalised people in the world, the Kulung are courageous, humble and incredibly gifted. Our film is an attempt to share the stories of the Kulung to the wider world – to provide an insight into their lives, their thoughts and dreams.

The owners of Like Mindshave generously offered their space for this event because they believe in making the local community and the world a more connected and beautiful place, and support projects and initiatives that aim to do the same. A simple coffee shop with a mindful menu, community space and vegetable garden, Like Minds is located at Avoca Beach next to the lake on the Central Coast of NSW (about 1 hour and 20 minutes north of Sydney and 1 hour south of Newcastle).

Come join us for an evening of Nepalese immersion and celebration in the company of the local community and help us tell us tell the stories of the Kulung people of Eastern Nepal.

Hallam and Fil from the Carrying Everest team have been doing some filming on an inspiring Canberra-based charity called the Reach for Nepal Foundation. R4N are a fantastic organisation doing some great work for the people of Western Nepal. We are taking some time out from our busy schedule with Carrying Everest to do a profile on Lachhu and his work with the Foundation.

Carrying Everest’s composer, Jeff Zampillo, is hosting a radio show on Thursday night (Friday 2 October in Australia). Jeff will be talking about his new album with The Pneumatic Transit, as well as chatting about his work on Carrying Everest and playing some of the music he has worked on for the film so far. You can listen in from 4pm Chicago time on Thursday (or 7AM on Friday – Australian EST) at http://stereo.wavestreamer.com:7057/index.html?sid=1or search for WVLP – 98.3 FM on one of the many free radio apps. Of course, you can tune in directly if you reside in the Chicago area on Thursday afternoon.

As a side note, Hallam is currently working on a music video for The Pneumatic Transit – and he thinks the album is absolutely amazing. Get a copy when it is released on 13 October.

The Kulung have been summiting the world’s highest peak since base camp expeditions first took place in 1921. Not for a challenge, or an adventure. Not to remedy a midlife crisis or to fulfill a lifelong dream. The Kulung have put their life on the line, braving the notoriously treacherous conditions of Everest for more than 90 years, twice a year, purely to earn an income to support their families.

They make the life-threatening trip up to 40 times per season out of survival.

On the Everest trail, you will see approximately 8,000 Kulung working as porters, carrying loads of fuel, food, ropes, oxygen tanks, and tents for their climber clients. You will also see them working as cooks, store hands and housekeepers, making the ascent as comfortable and convenient for the 30,000 tourists, which make the visit each year.

Placed at 145 out of 187 countries in the world on the UN’s 2014 human development report, the Nepalese government is reputably corrupt and the nation, living well below poverty levels.

The Nepalese people are very poor and for the Kulung, Everest represents opportunity – but at a severe cost.

Responsible for about 80% of the labour that supports the Everest trekking industry, the Kulung earn approximately $12 a day. After paying for their own meals and lodging on the trail, porters might only take $74 home to their families after a 13-day trek.

A look at the per capita income in Nepal will show you that on average, a Nepalese person earns less than $800 a year, while a porter will make on average $5,000 for two to three months of work (Source: Mark Jenkins, National Geographic, 2014).

The numbers speak for themselves.

Outside western guide groups however – who lead and manage increasingly more expeditions – earn about ten times the income of the Kulung, making up to $50,000 to $100,000 for guiding on Everest.

Exploited for their cheap labour, the Kulung know the odds are stacked against them and have accepted this reality for a long time now.

The Kulung know the land. They have a unique affinity with the sacred earth they have called home for generations upon generations, yet the government still does not recognise their indigenous ancestry and connection to the Mahakulung region, and poor policies and procedures allow for external mountaineer companies to occupy and dominate their industry.

The tragic death of 16 porters in 2014 on the Nepali side of Everest highlighted this and led to a referendum of risks by those who work on the mountain.

The injustice of the risk balanced with the very little reward was finally put under a global microscope.

Following the avalanche and the grief of their loss, porters in Nepal refused to climb for the rest of the season until the government listened to their demands. Among their demands were medical and life insurance, guaranteed pay during poor weather conditions and adequate compensation to the families who lost a loved one in the icefall. The government declared the mountain officially closed and 300 climbers returned home last year.

National Geographic also revealed that every climber pays a $10,000 peak fee to Nepal’s Ministry of Tourism but almost all of this money disappears either into the hands of the Nepali bureaucracy or into the pockets of government bureaucrats.

After receiving $3.2 million in mountaineering fees from Everest climbers in 2014, the government increased life insurance premiums from 400,000 rupees ($4,000) to one million rupees ($10,000), offered an additional small compensation of $400 per family, and instituted minor changes on the mountain, including slightly increasing the presence of officials at Base Camp. Long-term support including funds to educate children of the deceased porters and the cost of living stipends for the widows came from coordinated efforts of a number of non-profit organisations instead (Norbu Tenzing Norgay, Outside Online, 2015).

For the first time in August last year, 40 porters of differing expertise and experience came together to discuss the issues faced by workers of Everest. Historically, porters have not been consulted on their opinion in an industry that is progressively governed by international climbers and expedition companies. At this meeting, the porters made seven recommendations including greater access to professional training opportunities, the need to reform overly-competitive business practices that encourage cuts in price and safety, and the necessity to introduce better employment practices.

While this is the reality for the Kulung people of Nepal, and the fight continues, there are countless tales telling of conquest over the world’s tallest mountain.

Stories of courage, passion and of noble people striving for a better life and future.

We have the ability to change the story.

To change it from one of deprivation and exploitation, to one rich with opportunity, ancient knowledge and the power of the heart.

Discourse is plentiful on what is contained within the frame, but often it is what sits just out of shot that is lending the scene shape and form. The same is true for the Kulung of Eastern Nepal. Despite the countless books, films and musical tales of conquest and endeavour, little has been spoken of those behind these tales. Without the porters, shopkeepers and teahouse workers – there would be very few gallant tales to be shared around the proverbial campfire, thousands of kilometres away in foreign lands. The story of the conquest Everest continues to play, decades after Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay’s famous ascent, and often it is told in Western treatises. Modern day Everest travel/mountain-writing (and film) continues to define relationships strictly in terms of conquerer and mountain, climber and porter, employer and employee.

In 2014, out of friendship and curiosity, I resolved to to make a documentary about one of these ‘forgotten’ people of Everest. The concept is not an attempt to alleviate a perceived deficiency in Western conversation about the Everest subject. The intent, rather, is to spark the flicker of a flame.

In 2013, I visited Nepal for the first time. A friend who I worked with at Oxfam put me in touch with two fantastic people whom I met in back-alley cafe of Thamel, the main tourist trap in Nepal’s chaotic capital of Kathmandu. Over a couple of aptly-titled Everest beers, we discussed what it was like living in Nepal and how they were working to improve the lives of those around them. One of these two courageous men was named Dilip, who told me about the hardships his people face in the Solukhumbu region of Nepal. This discussion consequently sowed a seed in my heart and mind – I wanted to discover more, and find a way to help.

Shortly after my trip to Nepal, I filmed the short narrative Kiana. After a couple of film festivals and nearly two years of writing, rehearsing, filming and editing, I took a short break from filmmaking. But when the drive to venture back to that world returned, I could think of only one project I wanted to do: to share the story of those living in the shadows of Sagarmatha.

Photo courtesy Heema Rai

In many respects, the idea of a creating a documentary is more daunting than a narrative fiction. With narrative form, you have the chance to shape the film with a script – to know exactly what you need and have the ability to identify how that is to happen. In the instance of Carrying Everest, the starting point is less clear. While some documentaries have a wealth of background to draw from – for example a historical event – this film started with a brief conversation in Kathmandu regarding an issue I had never heard of. As I began to try and research the Kulung and where they lived, I noticed just how little literature in English was available. There were a couple of sites on the internet that spoke of the issues Dilip mentioned, and these I read thoroughly. I managed to find one or two anthropological texts, including one by Charles McDougal which was published in 1979. But the majority of other material was either in a language other than English or out of print. Eventually I was able to hone my research the more I learnt; as I began to learn about village names, issues, themes and so forth, I began to locate articles, blogs and photos of the place I had only read about.

As such, I am largely indebted to Heema Rai, who wrote a fantastic blog about her travel to and observations of Mahakulung. Her photos were some of the first images I saw of the region, while her writing articulated- and in turn bound the loose understanding I had in my mind – the issues the Kulung face. It was also Heema’s writing that inspired the name Carrying Everest, such a fantastic and concise description of a complicated issue.

But there is excitement in creating a documentary where there is little background information. And importantly, it emphasises not just the physical isolation of the Kulung, but the social and political inequality they face.

In truth, I see the value in maintaining an open approach to the filming. Thinking reflexively, it is far better for the Kulung to tell their own story. It would be a failure and mistake to attempt to conceptualise what the film is about in this circumstance. That is not to say that this would be a failed methodology, however, it is more applicable to another type of documentary.

The main purpose the film is to allow them to share their stories, their hopes, their struggles and their triumphs. Having a limited research background is far from a negative thing with this context in mind.

Ultimately, the film’s central question is ‘who are the Kulung?’ The aim is to seek the many answers to this inquiry, and in turn, allow their stories to be a catalyst for the change they strive for.

Photo courtesy Heema Rai

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